In Which Howl Adjusts His Crooked Heart
by eosdawnaurora
Summary: Howl stared into the mirror. He had gone and done it now. An epilogue for the first book, written originally for Yuletide 2008. Howl belongs to Diana Wynne Jones.


Note: Written for Yuletide 2008 for DQbunny. I do not own Howl's Moving Castle nor any of it's sequels.

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Howl stared into the mirror. He had gone and done it now.

The heart that he had missed so badly before, was thumping hard enough to hammer it's way back out. He couldn't quite pin down the emotion. Howl was accustomed to feeling them so dully and at such a distance, it was as if he had none at all. Now they surged like a hundred horses with their whip-wielding riders. Some flavor of apprehension led the stampede, no doubt.

He coughed and it echoed loudly in the bathroom. Still sick. He should have gone to bed when the last guest left. It was nearly midnight. The castle itself was silent around him, as if the very stones were asleep. Exhausted as he was, there were still a few small things to do.

Prince Justin and Wizard Suliman had been put up in the mansion, a messenger sent to Kingsbury with the good news about the Witch and the pair's intention to return home after a good night's rest. Michael was asleep, Calcifer was somewhere not far. Sophie had been abducted by her sisters and stepmother.

Howl had watched helplessly as Sophie disappeared in a sweep of ginghams and silks, dragged into that shrill, spider-murdering woman's carriage. No doubt to be lectured on her indecent living situation. That Fanny was full of concern about appearances, if the charm on her hat was anything to go by. Sophie's work by the look of it. Sophie never did anything by halves, including the placing of peculiarly strong charms on hats and suits.

He was still trying to understand Sophie's magical death-grip on that aging curse. Not that Howl minded it being broken. She could have died at any moment at that age. If he'd lost her and Mrs. Pentstemmon in short succession, he wasn't sure he'd have wanted his heart back.

"You're awfully moody. Do you miss being terrorized so much?" said Calcifer, flickering blue and green behind him in the mirror above his shoulder. It was a bit odd having him able to wander freely about the castle.

"Don't interrupt. I'm trying to get my heart set straight. Sophie may be a strong witch but she's hardly trained." It was working just fine, but slightly too far to the left and perhaps a little too low.

"I suppose you'll be the one to teach her then," Calcifer said, with a crackling snicker.

He paled slightly at the thought. "If she wants me to. But I think there are others with a better grasp on the type of magic she uses." Most of whom lived one country over or three worlds away. Who was going to teach Sophie? His heart jumped in his chest again, hard to the right, at the memory of her smooth ivory skin and waves of red-gold hair.

The things he wanted to do with Sophie the next time he saw her, were decidedly nonacademic in nature. He was right and properly besotted. He could feel it in his heart - which finally had rattled it's way to the proper location.

"Um, about what you said earlier-"

"I've said a lot of things today, Calcifer." Most of them to Sophie, who still hadn't given him a proper answer to several important questions. He felt a flash of irritation, followed by a definite surge of regret for snapping. Calcifer had been through as much as he had. "Remind me, I'm a bit of a mess right now." At the moment he looked and felt like he'd been run over by a truck, and then a carriage and possibly a horse that had trampled his face with all four hooves.

"Right. You said I didn't have to stay, but as I said, I will. Though I have a few conditions for staying."

Howl suspected there would be some sort of negotiations. An unbound fire demon was a force of nature, notoriously temperamental and dangerous. He did want him to stay. "Of course. I dare say you're part of the family. What are your terms?"

"Well, for one, I'd rather not be cooked upon any longer. Um, I'll take requests, but not orders. And I'd like a day off every now and again - I've been stuck in that hearth for almost nine years."

"Has it been that long?"

"You know it has. It's getting harder for you to hide those creases around your mouth you hate so much."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Anyway, your terms are more than reasonable." The skin smoothing spell worked fine. As long as Sophie wasn't tampering. Though it hadn't stayed put quite as well while he was sick and dying from another Wales-borne illness.

"Good. Then I'll be around." He flickered away.

Now to do a bit of scrying. Usually, he'd do it in the morning when his mind was clear and his powers of divination were at their strongest. Howl knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he did, though. He was overtired and very slightly terrified at his future prospects. He wasn't about to run away from a steady job, right after he had asked a girl to marry him; if he was going to be Royal Wizard, he'd like to know more of what he was getting into.

First the mirror showed him doing party tricks. Then making an assortment of politically useful spells: truth, concealment, instantaneous messages. Then war.

He already knew about that part. Howl didn't have a grudge against anyone in Strangia, but the King of Ingary had been working up to taking them over for a while now. If that would be his work, perhaps he could speed things up a bit. He'd never been too keen on bloodshed, rugby aside.

Sophie wasn't going to like this. He didn't much like it either.

The thought of her brought her image to him in the mirror. She was asleep. Sophie lay curled up in a thick white blanket, her head cushioned on huge, fluffy white pillows, the smallest of frowns still resting on her lips.

Hopefully, that frown had nothing to do with him. Unless it had to do with missing him. Howl wondered if she would answer his questions in the morning. He'd have to call on her as soon as the prince and Suliman were squared away. It wouldn't take long, and he considered emphasizing his illness.

Howl touched the glass, right over where Sophie's cheek lay. "I'll be there to fetch you tomorrow."

Her mouth quirked up. "Okay, Howl," she seemed to say, lips moving voicelessly. He couldn't get sound with this particular mirror. He let the image fade, until he could see nothing but his own bedraggled self. Ugh. Thank goodness she couldn't see him like this.

He put his hand over his heart again, and sighed. Had Sophie truly given all of it back?


End file.
